


ethereal

by BuddysImpala



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: A to Z - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Circus, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Greatest showman, M/M, The Greatest Showman, The Other Side, barlyle - Freeform, circus fire, tgs, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddysImpala/pseuds/BuddysImpala
Summary: Phillip helps Phineas cope in a way that nobody else — not his circus troupe, not even his own daughters — can. They are a team, Phineas and Phillip, in and out of work. If one of them falters, it shows... but the other, eventually, helps pick them back up again.ora collection of 26 connecting Barlyle prompts, A-to-Z style.
Relationships: P. T. Barnum/Phillip Carlyle
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	ethereal

**Author's Note:**

> 100% unbetaed. I have been working on this BEAST for well over a week now.
> 
> Inspired by Braille’s collection of 50 prompts, but each prompt is different!
> 
> I chose to rate this T, but there ARE a few prompts that lean towards a Mature rating. If that isn’t your thing, avoid:
> 
> The last 6-7 paragraphs of H  
> Most/All of K  
> The second half of M  
> The last 4 paragraphs of R
> 
> Other than that, enjoy!

i. apple

They sit together on a picnic blanket. Phillip chuckles at something Phineas says, looking down in his lap as he picks at the crust from his sandwich. He looks up again to respond, but his breath, instead, hitches in his throat.

Phineas bites into the flawless fruit, juice from the apple dribbling down his chin. He makes eye contact with Phillip, still watching, and smirks as he swallows.

Phillip leans in, pressing their lips together. He can taste the juice on Phineas’s mouth, and he catches the sweetness with his own tongue. Phineas sighs, apple still in one hand as he pulls Phillip closer with the other.

ii. bubbles

The squeals of Caroline and Helen make Phillip smile. He is in the front yard of the Barnum estate, watching as Phineas chases after the girls. The man’s got a bubble-blowing wand in one hand, bubble soap in the other. The girls run and squeal, begging their daddy not to get the bubbles in their hair.

Phineas pauses as they run past Phillip, allowing the girls to pull ahead to the other side of the yard. He digs into his pocket and pulls out another wand and soap bottle, grinning as he extends them to Phillip.

Phillip stares at the toy for a moment, seemingly in disbelief, before a slow grin spreads across his face. He takes the wand and the soap and, together, he and Phineas hunt for the hiding girls.

If only his father could see him now. 

iii. chocolate

Phineas has never had chocolate before.

This is something Phillip finds out in total disbelief. How could Phineas Barnum, a man with a million dreams, who lives life to the fullest every day, have never had chocolate before?

Phineas explains that, as a child, he could simply never afford it. As an adult, the opportunity had never presented itself and he’d nearly forgotten that the sweet dessert even existed.

Phillip goes out and buys a chocolate bar the next chance he gets.

When he presents the sweet to Phineas, the man throws his head back and laughs. But, he agrees to try it as long as they split the bar in half.

“I’ve got to watch my figure,” Phineas teases with a grin. 

Smiling, Phillip breaks the bar in half, and gives the bigger half to Phineas. But he doesn’t so much as touch his portion until Phineas tries chocolate for the first time ever.

Phineas’s eyes light up. He abstains from eating the candy too quickly, instead allowing it to melt on his tongue. His face is one of a small child’s who’s just seen Saint Nicholas. 

He eats the rest of his half, and ends up eating Phillip’s, too. But Phillip doesn’t mind — he smiles at the pure delight on Phineas’s face, moans softly when Phineas kisses him and he can taste the chocolate on his tongue. 

He promises Phineas that they’ll go get some more first thing in the morning.

iv. dance

Phillip’s parents tried to teach him to dance when he was a child, but the lessons never stuck. His instructors only knew dances of the slow, uptight variety, and Phillip could have died of boredom.

Now, he throws his head back and laughs like his parents have never heard before asPhineas twirls him around their living room. He has only a moment to clutch at Phineas’s shirt and catch his breath before Phineas is dipping him, low, lower, until he’s practically at the floor and afraid he may be dropped.

“Phineas!” he gasps.

Light amber eyes meet his, twinkling, before Phineas is kissing him. He’s bent in a way that he frets may snap his spine, but right now he doesn’t much care as he closes his eyes and paws at Phineas’s back.

When Phineas pulls him up, Phillip laughs again, breathlessly, and clings to Phineas for all he’s worth. His legs refuse to hold him without assistance.

“Why, Mr. Carlyle, I believe that’s the most I’ve ever heard that beautiful laugh in a single day,” Phineas hums, tracing Phillip’s lips.

Phillip smiles against Phineas’s hand and kisses his fingers.

“Let’s just say you make a much better instructor than my father’s money could ever buy.”

Phineas’s smile is breathtaking. He twirls Phillip around the room once more before pulling him in again, their kiss slow and loving.

Phillip wishes that he would never let go.

v. ellie

The heavy thud on the bed is what jolts Phillip awake, and he groans. He’s lying on his stomach and buries his face into his pillows, silently willing the interruption to go away.

There’s a high whine in his ear, and then a slobbery tongue covers one half of his face in kisses. Phillip gasps and splutters, and he hears Phineas laugh from somewhere nearby.

“I think she’s hungry, darling,” Phineas laughs.

Groaning, Phillip finally lifts his head and sits up. Ellie barks, excited, tail wagging furiously as she urges Phillip out of bed.

Phineas is sitting in his armchair across the room, shirtless, and tries to cover his snorting laughter with a cough.

“Why couldn’t you feed her?” Phillip groans. Though, he does pause a moment as his eyes sweep over Phineas appreciatively. 

Phineas shrugs, that shit-eating grin still taking over his face. “She wanted you.”

As if she knows she’s being talked about, Ellie whines and nuzzles her head into Phillip’s hand. Instinctively, he knows he’s got to move faster if he doesn’t want the massive dog jumping on his chest.

“All right, all right,” he chuckles as he gets up. Ellie barks excitedly and races for the door.

At the doorway, Phillip looks over his shoulder at Phineas.

“Next time, you’re cleaning out the cats’ litter box.”

He laughs at Phineas’s expression as he walks away.

vi. fire

Phillip cries out as he bolts upright.

A dream. It was only a dream, and yet he can still feel the suffocating smoke in his throat and lungs.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels the wetness of his tears on his cheeks. Beside him, Phineas stirs and opens one eye to peek up at him.

“Phillip? What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing.” He tries to speak clearly, but he can hear the whimper in his own voice. “Go back to sleep. I’m f-fine.”

Phineas stirs again and then sits up. Strong arms envelope Phillip and pull him into Phineas’s chest. There he lies, and tries to breathe.

Phineas knows that only two things give Phillip nightmares like this.

“Was it your father, or—“

“So much smoke, Phineas,” Phillip whispers.

It’s been nearly a year now, but the nightmares still rear their ugly head on occasion. Phineas holds Phillip tight and kisses his forehead. Sometimes he still gets the night terrors, too.

“I love you,” Phineas mumbles against Phillip’s skin.

Phillip closes his eyes. “I know.”

He does know, and it’s that fact he tries to focus on. They’re alive, and Phineas loves him. He loves Phineas.

But still, the flames—

He trembles in Phineas’s hold. Phineas’s words hitch in his throat as he asks, “What can I do?”

Phillip says nothing. He tries to focus on breathing as Phineas lays him back down, but finds he can’t do that, either.

After a moment, he’s up again. Sleep won’t happen now — at least, not on its own. He’s out of the bed and makes sure to step carefully around B.T. and Freyr, who sleep undisturbed, curled around one another on the floor.

He hears the bed creak, and realizes Phineas has gotten up, too.

“Tea?” he offers without a glance behind him.

It’s a substitute, but he and Phineas both know that old addictions die hard and he’s fighting everything in him not to drown himself in alcohol at two in the morning.

“Of course.”

vii. garden

Phineas Barnum would never admit it to the public — especially never to a certain uptight news “reporter” — but he loved to garden. He took pride in the little garden behind his home as if it were the third child he’d never had.

Phillip never understood the hobby. A product of the upper class, he would have been caught dead kneeling in a pile of dirt, and his mother always hired gardeners and landscapers to deal with their outdoor property. But now here he is, kneeling hip to hip with Phineas Barnum as he tends to weeds and plants fresh tomato seeds.

“I hope you know that you’re the only one, outside of Charity and the girls, who knows about this,” Phineas points out. He motions for Phillip to hand him a tool — the name of which Phillip has already forgotten.

Phillip smiles. “Oh,” he teases right back, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Good. Because if you did, I’d have to kill you,” Phineas says conversationally.

Phillip immediately stiffens, and Phineas lets out a booming laugh. He, thankfully, pulls off his gardening gloves before affectionately running his fingers through Phillip’s hair, and he smiles as he delivers a light kiss to Phillip’s lips.

“Don’t worry,” he muses, still so close to Phillip that they share breath, “I like having you around. You’re much too pretty to kill, I think.”

Phillip huffs, but has to admit that he is feeling rather relaxed. Though he’d been hard to rise that morning, after nightmares had kept him up much of the night, he wasn’t feeling terribly tired. He liked watching Phineas work, and liked watching his hands in particular, even through the gloves. 

“Would you like to try?” Phineas offers his tools to Phillip.

Phillip startles. “Oh— I don’t—“ 

“It’s all right,” Phineas smiles, “I’ll help you.”

So, with Phineas’s help, Phillip, indeed, plants his own little addition to Phineas’s garden.

And, he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited about watching the little radishes grow.

viii. horses

As with the chocolate, Phillip is astonished to learn that Phineas has never ridden a horse before.

“You rode an elephant through downtown! How have you never been horseback riding?”

Phineas shrugs, sheepish grin at his lips. “I think that’s more Charles’ territory than my own.”

So Phillip insists on letting him set up a day for horseback riding. He has connections with somebody who owns a ranch and offers lessons, and he can get them in in two weeks for remarkably cheap.

When they arrive at the ranch a couple weeks later, they’re given two of the biggest stallions on the property. Phillip is amused to note that Phineas actually seems a little nervous, but is quick to assure him that he’ll be fine. If anything happens, Phillip will be right there with him.

Phineas’s horse is a beautiful stallion, its mane and fur a rich, deep brown. Though he’s one of the largest horses in the stables, he’s mellow-mannered, steady, and they are assured that he is the best fit for a beginning rider of Phineas’s size.

“What’s his name?” Phillip asks.

They’re told his name is Othello. 

Phillip’s horse is gray and white, and a little younger, smaller, and friskier than Othello. Phillip smiles as he rubs the horse’s nose, and the animal nuzzles into his hand. His name is Chaser. 

Before long, they’re on the horses and ready to ride around a bit on their own. When Phillip looks over at Phineas, his face is a little pale but he’s smiling.

“All right?” Phillip calls.

“I think so.”

Seeing Phineas so out of his element is a little concerning, but it’s also humbling. Even the bigger-than-life ringmaster has uncertainties. Though Phillip still finds it particularly amusing that the man can handle an elephant just fine, but shows hesitance at a horse.

If Phillip were on his own, he would trot, maybe even canter, with Chaser. But he stays with Phineas at their slow, steady pace, and he breathes in deep as he takes in the landscape. After awhile, even Phineas starts to look a little more at ease.

Eventually, their ride comes to an end and they return Othello and Chaser to their stalls. Phillip thanks his friend, pays him, and they leave the property.

On their way back to their carriage, Phillip asks, “How was it?”

“I had fun,” Phineas smiles. Then he shifts his weight and winces just a little. “Though, I think I’ll be a little sore tomorrow.”

Phillip smirks and reaches up to whisper in Phineas’s ear.

A matching smirk curls at the older man’s lip. “Oh, you are filthy, Mr. Carlyle.”

Phineas slips his hand into Phillip’s back pocket, cups his ass, and squeezes. Phillip gasps, and a low moan escapes his lips.

Thankfully, no one is around to hear and, as they board the carriage, Phillip can’t help but hope they’d get home quickly.

There’s something else he’d very much like to ride.

ix. imagination 

“Daddy, what if the sky was green and the grass was blue?”

“Daddy, what if candy grew on trees?”

“Daddy, what if we could talk to animals?”

“Daddy, what if—?”

Phillip chuckles as Caroline and Helen tug at their father’s hands and ask a million questions. Helen has just reached that phase where she’s curious about everything in the world around her, and Caroline finds great joy in adding flame to that curiosity.

“Well,” Phineas smiles. He picks Helen up and ruffles Caroline’s hair, “I think that if the sky was green and the grass was blue, if candy grew on trees, if we could talk to animals, we’d live in the most beautiful place in all the universe.”

The girls giggle, and Phineas kisses Helen’s forehead as he sets her back down, but his answer does nothing to abate their questions.

“Daddy, what if puppies stayed puppies forever?”

“Daddy, what if fairytales were real?”

“Daddy, why do you live with Phillip?”

Caroline’s question brings Phineas pause, and his eyes flick over to Phillip. Phillip, too, is taken aback, but quickly shakes himself and kneels down to meet the girls’ height.

“Caroline, Helen, do you know what a best friend is?”

The girls nod eagerly. Helen pipes up, “Annie at school is my bestest friend!”

Phillip smiles. “And do you love your best friend?” 

Helen is quick to agree. “Oh, yes!”

Caroline asks, “Do best friends love each other like Mommies and Daddies love each other?”

At this, Phillip pauses and considers his next words carefully.

“Not always, but sometimes. And sometimes people who love each other — even as best friends — choose to live together, even if most other people think it’s odd. Do you girls think it’s odd I’m here all the time?”

The girls are quick to shake their heads. Helen throws her arms around Phillip’s neck and exclaims, “I want you to stay here, forever and ever!”

Phillip chuckles. He gives each girl a kiss on her cheek before standing and looking at Phineas over his shoulder. The man is positively beaming.

“I think I could agree to that,” Phillip says softly.

x. justice

Phineas is at his desk in their office, working. Phillip is taking a break and is flipping through that day’s newspaper when an article catches his eye.

A man has been arrested for the assault and attempted murder of a former circus performer and his wife. The description of the assaulter is brief, the photo extremely grainy, but—

Phillip gasps. The newspaper falls from his hands.

“Phil?”

“Phineas,” Phillip chokes out.

It’s him. The man who led the protestors and set fire to the circus, nearly a year ago now. Phillip is certain that it’s him.

Phineas comes over, presses a worried hand to Phillip’s cheek. The younger man is trembling. Phineas bends down to retrieve the paper and understanding flickers in his eyes once he’s read the article.

“Oh, Phillip,” Phineas whispers.

Phillip can’t help it. The news is good — very, very good indeed — but he shakes with tears. Memories from that night flash before his eyes, taunt him behind his eyelids even after he’s squeezed his eyes shut.

He doesn’t realize that Phineas has pulled him into a crushing hug until his face is in Phineas’s shirt and he’s breathing in the man’s cologne. Phineas noses Phillip’s hair and holds him tight.

Neither of them want to be the first to let go, but—

“Do the others know?” Phillip whispers, looking up at Phineas. He hadn’t realized Phineas was crying, but there are tear tracks on his face that match the ones down Phillip’s own cheeks.

Phineas takes a deep, wobbly breath. “I... suppose we should let them know, huh?”

Phillip nods. Phineas squeezes his hand and lifts it to press a kiss to Phillip’s knuckles. He picks up the newspaper and they stand, Phillip clinging to his arm. 

Then they leave the office to let their friends know that justice has (finally) befallen the man who made their lives a living hell.

xi. kiss

Phillip could lie here and kiss Phineas forever.

After the news of the circus arsonist’s arrest, Phineas decided to close shows for the next two days. They have nowhere to go, no outside responsibilities to worry about for forty-eight hours, and Phillip wants to spend it all laying here, kissing Phineas.

He’s sleepy and lax with the after-effects of their early morning activities and Phineas still lies comfortably inside of him. They lie together under their bedsheets, he’s got his arms around Phineas’s neck, and Phineas’s hands cup his face as they kiss, slow and loving in sharp contrast to the heated kisses they shared last night.

Phineas pulls away from Phillip’s plump, kiss-swollen lips and starts peppering his lips down Phillip’s neck instead, following the trail of nicks and marks he left earlier. Phillip’s eyes flutter closed as he moans, giving Phineas better access to his marked throat.

“I love you,” Phineas whispers in between kisses. The room is silent apart from Phillip’s soft sighs and noises, “You’re beautiful. Perfect. Mine.”

Phillip flushes at Phineas’s words and he can feel the rumble of Phineas’s laughter as the man chuckles against Phillip’s collarbone. He trails up again and presses his lips to one of Phillip’s flushed cheeks.

“Phin,” Phillip whimpers. His cock twitches and Phineas smirks against his cheek.

“Ready for more, darling?”

Phillip’s whine is the only response Phineas needs. He moves his hips just slightly, sinking further into him, and Phillip sighs.

Phineas’s kiss swallows the next moan that attempts to escape Phillip’s parted lips.

xii. luck

“Do you believe in luck?”

They lay together in their backyard, on their backs, Phillip drawn protectively into Phineas’s chest. The sun is out and shining, but it’s not blindingly bright and they laid together in silence, watching the clouds as Phineas played with Phillip’s hair. Across the yard, Ellie naps contentedly in the sun. The cats remain inside, staring at the men and the dog enviously through a window.

Now, though, Phillip pauses and turns his gaze to face Phineas. “Luck?” he echoes.

“Mhmm. Good luck, bad luck, karma. Lucky charms, y‘know.” Phineas waves the hand that isn’t wrapped around Phillip dismissively. “Do you believe in it?”

“Well,” Phillip can’t help but scoff, “If luck is real, then my life has been pretty unlucky up until this point.”

Phineas is hit with a wave of sympathy, but he doesn’t focus on that. He doesn’t want Phillip to focus on that. So, he smiles. “Up until you met me, you mean?”

Phillip chuckles and rests his head on Phineas’s shoulder. Phineas traces the lines of his jaw as he says, “You could say that.”

Phineas’s smile is bright and beautiful. Then, without warning, he sits up, and Phillip makes a noise of protest. He sits up, too, and watches Phineas in stunned silence as the man leans forward and starts to paw through the grass. 

“What are you doing?” Phillip asks in disbelief.

Phineas doesn’t grant him with an answer. He’s silent for several moments, as if he never even heard Phillip at all, until— “Aha!”

“Phineas?”

Phineas turns to Phillip with a smile and holds out his hand.

In his palm is a tiny, perfect, four leaf clover.

Phillip smiles, then laughs as Phineas carefully deposits the clover into his palm.

“Now you’ll be lucky forever,” Phineas smiles.

“I think Caroline and Helen have finally gotten to you,” Phillip teases. But, he closes his fingers carefully around the clover.

“Thank you.”

xiii. magnificent

That’s only one of many words that comes to Phillip’s mind as he watches Phineas perform from behind the stands.

Extraordinary.

Stunning.

Marvelous.

Mesmerizing.

Radiant.

Beautiful. 

Their opening show after the circus’s two-day closure is easily one of the best they have ever performed. Phineas struts across the ring knowing that he owns it. Knowing that nobody in that tent can tear their eyes away from him. He has cast a spell upon the audience (and certain members of the staff) and they are mesmerized.

The ground trembles underneath Phillip’s feet from the power of the music and the man’s voice. Phineas has never lost his voice from strain before, but it sounds stronger than ever after their two-day break.

“Go and ride your light... / Let it burn so bright...”

Heat licks at Phillip’s hips.

As he watches Phineas, he wants. 

Wants those hands all over him.

Wants Phineas to take him wearing nothing but that goddamned coat.

By the time Phineas’s break rolls around, Phillip’s eyes are dark with desire. The bastard takes one look at Phillip’s eyes... and knows.

A wicked smirk curls at his lip.

His behind-the-scenes performance is simply... magnificent.

xiv. numb

Some days, it isn’t so easy.

Some days, the ghost of his addiction whispers sick temptations into Phillip’s ear.

And some days, even with the loving support of Phineas and all their friends, the demon still wins.

The nightmare is what drives Phillip out of bed. Unlike the one from weeks ago, this is about his father... and he manages to rise without waking Phineas. Manages to stumble, blinded by tears, into the kitchen without waking Phineas.

Manages to raid the liquor cabinet without waking Phineas.

He isn’t sure how much time passes. All he knows is the sharp taste of the alcohol, the upset rolling of his otherwise empty stomach, and the sweet oblivion that the drinks in question send him into.

“...Phillip?”

Despite the sluggishness that has settled into his bones, Phillip screams as he drops the bottle. He whips around, eyes wide, bloodshot.

His father.

No, no, no.

His father caught him in the supply.

Again.

His vision blurs so he can’t properly see the figure standing in front of him, but he knows. He cries out as that hand reaches for him, sobs as he tries to shrink away from its terrifying hold.

“Pl-Please, Father. I’ll be good,” his begs incoherently, tears still blinding him, “I’ll be good, please Father, please, please don’t, please don’t, please don’t—“

His vision tunnels until all he can see is black, and Phillip drops to the floor.

He would have hit his head if it weren’t for the strong arms that caught him and held him to a solid chest, the ringmaster’s entire body shaking with silent tears.

xv. oblivion

Phillip isn’t sure how long he floats. Floating, floating. The world around him is dark and his head thunders so terribly it brings tears to his eyes. His throat is dry and scratchy.

He wants Phineas.

When he manages to open his eyes, they’re swollen and crusty. He tastes something bitter on his tongue... the aftertaste of liquor. He cringes, makes a face. Licks his dry, cracked lips.

God, all he wants is—

“Here,” a soft, sad voice rumbles, “Drink this.”

His head screams as he lifts his eyes and sees Phineas. The man is beside him — he realizes now that he’s lying in bed — and holds out a glass of ice water.

Phillip grabs for the glass eagerly, spilling on his chin and neck in his haste. Phineas helps him by holding the glass steady.

“Phin—“ he starts to whisper after taking a few sips.

“What happened?” Phineas’s voice cracks. He sounds... broken. “You were doing so well, Phillip.” His eyes fill with tears and Phillip shatters. He is making Phineas cry. “Why?”

Phillip starts to weep. He can’t help it, he feels overwhelmed and exhausted and sickeningly dirty. The glass trembles in his hands. Phineas takes it so that he won’t spill on himself again.

“Nightmare. My father,” Phillip whimpers, “He came for me and it hurt so bad and I didn’t want to wake you up, Phineas, so I, I—“

“Oh, darling,” Phineas whispers. He brings his forehead to Phineas’s and brushes their lips together. Phillip feels disgusting, but Phineas doesn’t seem to care. “I am so, so sorry.”

Phillip starts to cry again, harder, and Phineas can’t do anything but hold him. Phillip clings to his shirt. He feels worthless, like all of his steps to recovery have been for nothing. He mumbles this to Phineas, weepy, blubbery, absolutely the least dignified anyone has ever seen him. But, somehow, Phineas understands through his garbled mess.

“You are not worthless,” Phineas tells him, whispers at first, and then louder, with conviction. “Phillip, you are not. It’s all right. One slip up doesn’t mean it’s all over, I promise. Darling, look at me.”

Phineas tilts his chin up and peers into watery, bloodshot blue eyes. Tears wetten his cheeks, but Phineas gently presses a kiss to one cheek, and then his forehead. Phillip closes his eyes and trembles under Phineas’s touch.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

Phineas cups Phillip’s cheek in his hand, runs his thumb over a tear track. Phillip. closes his eyes and leans into that touch.

“You’ll wake me, right?” Phineas whispers.

Phillip’s eyes open again and flicker to Phineas’s face in silent confusion.

“The next time a nightmare wakes you like that. I want you to wake me up too, no matter what it takes.”

A lump forms in Phillip’s throat and he nods. His voice comes out barely a murmur, but it’s there.

“I promise.”

xvi. playwright

Phillip is absolutely trembling. He forces himself to take a deep breath as he waits for his nerves to settle.

Plenty of people have seen his plays. But this is... is...

It’s different.

Phillip clutches the script to his chest. This one... this one was completed right before he met Phineas. Obviously, it had never reached the stage.

Good or bad? Phillip isn’t sure.

One thing he does know, it is easily the most personal play he’s ever written. He‘s the only one to ever lay eyes on it.

Until now.

Phineas is in the living room, nursing a cup of tea. Ellie lies curled at his feet. He looks up and smiles when Phillip enters the room. 

“Phineas,” Phillip breathes.

Phineas’s smile melts away into a mild look of concern. “Are you all right, Phil?”

“I wanted to... I want to show you something.”

Tears prick at Phillip’s eyes, but he blinks them away. He forces his trembling legs forward and lays the script aside Phineas’s cup of tea on the table. Looking up, he’s met with Phineas’s puzzled gaze.

Phillip takes another, shakier breath, forcing air into his lungs. “This is... it’s a play I wrote that was never put on stage. There’s only one draft so it’s rough, but I... I wanted you to read it.”

“Oh, Phil—“ Phineas reaches for Phillip’s face. Phillip averts his gaze as he ducks away.

“I... think it would be best if you... read it alone. I’ll be waiting when you’ve... finished.”

The concern doesn’t leave Phineas’s eyes. He asks again, “Are you all right, Phillip?”

Phillip stares down at his hands. He’s silent for a long time. 

Finally, he says, “I think I will be.”

He gets up and leaves the room before Phineas has the chance to respond. Mindlessly, his legs carry him to their bedroom. The cats, B.T. and Freyr, lie on the bed and stare at him.

He lays down and brings Freyr to his chest.

He stares at the wall and tries again to control his breathing.

*

He’s lying on his side, facing the wall away from the door, and he’s not sure how much time passes when the door to their room opens. He’s awake when it does, but he doesn’t look up.

All he can hear are footsteps. There’s a dip in the bed as Phineas sits, and then Phillip feels a warm hand at his back.

“Frederick... is really your father, isn’t he?”

Phillip gives a minute nod of his head. His face is wet and his eyes burn.

“And Augustus... is you.”

Phillip’s shoulders tremble. He nods again.

“You visualized your nightmares on paper.”

Finally, Phillip turns to face Phineas.

“It didn’t help,” he whispers. “It never did.”

“Phillip,” Phineas murmurs. He cradles Phillip’s face in his hands, his eyes the softest Phillip has ever seen them, “Nobody — no man, woman, or child — should ever have to go through what your father put you through. Parental abuse is never justified, no matter the age of the child.”

A fresh wave of tears wracks Phillip. “You’re — you’re not going to—“

“What, leave you?”

Phillip’s sob is the only answer Phineas needs.

“It kills me that you would ever even think that,” Phineas whispers. “Phillip — if I have ever unintentionally done or said something to make you believe that I would leaveto over trauma inflicted by the piece of filth who dares call himself your father, I am truly sorry.”

Phillip’s lips taste of salt when Phineas kisses him. The pillow Phillip had been lying on is soaked half through. 

Phillip whimpers into the kiss and clings to Phineas, pulling him closer. The older man goes willingly, so close their chests press against one another. Phineas soothingly strokes his fingers through Phillip’s hair, massaging lightly at Phillip’s scalp. 

“You will never have to be alone with that man again,” Phineas swears against Phillip’s lips. 

“You can’t promise that—“

“I can damn well try.”

This seems to cause a fresh wave of emotion through Phillip. He cries, pulling away to press his face into Phineas’s neck, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I have you,” Phineas mumbles into Phillip’s hair.

“I swear on my life, Phillip, you will never have to fight your demons alone again.”

xvii. quilt 

Phineas wakes in a panic.

Phillip isn’t in bed beside him.

He doesn’t know what stirs him awake, alerting him to Phillip’s absence, but he moves quickly now that he’s aware, waking Ellie in his haste. Phillip isn’t anywhere in the room. Phineas hurries out into the hall, followed by a half-asleep Irish Wolfhound.

Silence. If Phillip got drunk, he isn’t making a sound. Perhaps he’s passed out somewhere.

Or—

No.

Phineas shakes his head frantically.

Phillip isn’t. He can’t be.

Anxiety builds in Phineas’s chest. Hot, stinging tears prick his eyes. He stumbles into the living room and opens his mouth, ready to shout.

Before he can make a noise, though, his eyes fall to a sleeping figure on the couch. The sleeping man’s chest rises and falls evenly.

The ball of anxiety that had been building evaporates as quickly as it had wound together. Two tears escape Phineas’s eyes, tears of pure relief. He wipes them away absently.

Trying to be as silent as possible, Phineas moves closer. He kneels down aside Phillip’s head.

There’s no trace of alcohol on his breath.

Phineas is flooded with more relief. He sits there a moment, rests his forehead against the arm of the couch. Phillip appears to be resting easily, the most relaxed Phineas has seen him in awhile.

Phineas stands. There’s a closet upstairs, down the hall from the girls’ bedrooms. He goes there, as quickly and quietly as he can, and takes a handwoven quilt from the shelf.

Phillip is stirring when Phineas returns. 

“Hey,” Phineas whispers. He drapes the quilt over Phillip, “I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“Phineas?” Phillip’s voice is coated with sleep.

“I’m here.” Phineas rests his hand on Phillip’s shoulder. “I was worried when you weren’t beside me, Phillip, I thought we agreed—“

“Not a nightmare,” Phillip whispers. “Jus’ couldn’t sleep. Restless. Didn’t drink... promise.”

“Oh, thank God,” Phineas mumbles, more to himself than to Phillip.

Phillip nestles further into the quilt and sighs. “This is nice.”

“My mother made it,” Phineas smiles. “When I was a boy. She finished it right before she—“

There’s a hitch in his breath and he trails off, stares down at the ground. 

“I love it, Phineas,” Phillip mumbles. He catches Phineas’s hand, raises it to his lips. “I love you.”

Phineas smiles, rests his palm against Phillip’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S’okay,” Phillip insists. He sits up, rubs his eyes, looking very much like a rumpled little cub. “I’ll come to bed.”

“Darling, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

Phillip mumbles something incoherent. Phineas chuckles... and scoops Phillip up, quilt and all, into his arms. He holds Phillip against his chest.

Phillip makes a noise of surprise. Phineas grins, kisses his forehead. 

He’s asleep again before Phineas even tucks him into bed.

xviii. red

The coat is hung up, put away for the night, but still smells strongly of Phineas.

Phillip is alone in their office, waiting to go home. Phineas had told him that he’d be right back — one of the dancers sprained her ankle during the last performance of the night and he wanted to make sure she was okay.

The coat hangs from a simple hook on the back of the door. Phineas had shed it quickly, would put it away properly before they left. Phillip waits a moment, but doesn’t hear anything... no footsteps in the hall. Pulse quickening, his eyes flick to the door again before his hands reach up and remove the coat from hook.

The fabric runs smoothly against his hand. This is far from the first time he’s admired the coat — Phineas, obviously, wore it often, and Phillip’s infatuation for the material was no secret — but he still loves the way it feels as much as he did the very first time he’d slid it from Phineas’s shoulders.

There’s a full-length mirror at one end of the office. Phillip slips the coat on, wrapping himself in Phineas’s scent, and admires his reflection. He doesn’t pull it off nearly as well as the ringmaster himself — the coat is too big for him, the sleeves a little too long — but the effect it has on him is absolutely hypnotic.

Phillip flushes when he feels a slight, but very distinct twinge in his trousers.

“Stealing my things, are you?”

Phillip’s eyes widen as he catches sight of Phineas in the mirror. The man leans against the doorframe, smirking. Phillip blushes a red nearly as brilliant as the coat, and moves to shrug it off his shoulders.

“Nuh-uh, don’t do that,” Phineas moves forward, watching Phillip in the mirror. He chuckles when he clasps his hands on Phillip’s shoulders, and Phillip jumps. “I think you look positively stunning in my things.”

Phillip shudders as Phineas noses at his jaw, pressing a kiss to it before journeying up to nibble at his ear. “Phineas, I—“

“In fact,” Phineas hums, kissing Phillip’s earlobe. His voice wraps around the younger man like silk, “I want you to wear nothing but that coat next time I take you.”

Phillip’s eyes blow wide. He turns, throws himself at Phineas. The ringmaster stumbles back as their mouths collide, teeth clacking messily together.

And Phillip does just that.

xix. storm 

Caroline and Helen shriek as the thunder claps, rattling the whole house.

“Shhh,” Phineas attempts to soothe them. He smooths back Helen’s hair and kisses Caroline’s forehead. “The storm can’t get you in here, you’re safe.”

“It’s so loud, Daddy,” Helen whimpers. It’s not just the thunder — the wind howls through the walls as it whips around and wreaks havoc outside.

“I know,” Phineas nods, “That’s why you girls are sleeping here in the living room tonight. So Phillip and I can keep an eye on you.”

The girls lie on a big bundle of blankets and pillows that Phineas and Phillip put together on the floor in the main room. Caroline clutches a teddy bear to her chest, and Helen is wrapped in her baby blanket. Her thumb is in her mouth, a habit she had broken years ago.

Phineas smiles. “How about I tell you a bedtime story?”

Lightning streaks outside the closest window, and the girls gasp. Caroline is positively pale as she asks, “Wh-Where’s Phillip?”

“Making sure all the windows are closed and secure,” Phineas answers.

“I think a story would be good,” she whispers. Helen nods in agreement, thumb still in her mouth.

Phineas smiles as he pulls the blankets up to their chins. “Once upon a time, in a kingdom very far from here, there was a girl with feet upon feet of long, golden hair...”

*

Caroline and Helen have just drifted to sleep when Phillip comes back to the living room.

“Everything’s closed,” he whispers, noting the sleeping girls on the floor. “Have they been asleep long?”

“A few minutes,” Phineas answers as he stands. Something in his knee pops, and he makes a face before chuckling. “I’m getting too old for this.” 

“You’re not old,” Phillip counters.

“Mmm, tell that to my back,” Phineas grins. He and Phillip sit together on the bigger sofa. Phillip tucks his legs up underneath him, rests his head on Phineas’s shoulder. Phineas smiles and hums softly as he draws Phillip into his side.

When the next roll of thunder booms, Phineas feels, rather than sees, Phillip flinch.

“All right?” he whispers.

“Sorry,” Phillip whispers. “Just... don’t like thunder. Never have.”

“Your parents...?”

“Just... was jumpy as a child. Father mocked me. Whenever there was a storm, he’d whip me with one of his belts if he saw me flinch at thunder. Said only baby girls were scared of noises in the sky.”

Phineas squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath. “Next time I see your father—“

“No, Phin. It’s... it’s done and over now.”

Phineas is about to say something more when another crack of thunder interrupts him. Phillip flinches, hides his face in Phineas’s shoulder. His cheeks are burning.

“I’ve got you,” Phineas mumbles. He lightly massages the back of Phillip’s neck with one hand, slow and soothing.

Phillip sighs, closes his eyes. “I love you...”

“And I, you,” Phineas responds. He gently tilts Phillip’s face up, his lips whisper-soft against the younger man’s.

When the house rumbles with the next roll of thunder, Phillip doesn’t even notice.

xx. thief 

The circus is robbed.

Sometime during the night, a thief snuck into the tents and not only took a bunch of valuables, but trashed everything. Several animals were let out of their pens. Sometime after Phineas learned of the robbery, an officer returns a young lion cub that had been found wandering the street.

Valuables are taken. Anne has lost most of her stage makeup. At least two of Lettie’s handmade, intricate dresses are gone. One of Charles’ favorite horses is missing, presumed taken by the thief (or thieves) or let loose. A number of the other performers are missing jewelry, money, personal heirlooms.

Phineas’s favorite top hat is gone. It wouldn’t matter so much if it were just any hat, but—

“It was my father’s,” the man whimpers. He sits at his ruined desk (months of paperwork... shredded), head in his hands, and openly sobs.

The only other time the performers have seen their ringmaster in such a state was after the fire. Some try to console him. Others turn away, wanting to help but not sure how to comfort the man who’d given so many of them a home, a second chance at life.

Shows are cancelled for the rest of the week, refunds sent out. It’s not vacation time... the performers must try to make up what they lost. 

Nobody is sure how to go about doing that.

Phillip isn’t sure how he feels. Simply... hollow.

For a second time, somebody has tried to destroy the most beautiful thing he has in his life.

Phineas is a wreck. The fact that his father’s hat is gone has destroyed him. Though Phillip had suspected at much, Phineas finally admits to him that it is the only material possession of his father’s he had left. 

And it is simply... gone.

Phineas shuts down. 

The brilliant, extravagant, zealous ringmaster of the most beloved circus in the country doesn’t speak to anyone... not even Phillip... for days.

xxi. unity

The rapid knocking at the door makes Phineas groan and cover his eyes with his arm. 

Despite the work that needs to be done at the circus, Phineas hasn’t been leaving his home. He doesn’t sleep in the same bed as Phillip more, instead choosing to sleep in one of the guest rooms or on the couch. He hasn’t spoken to Phillip in days. Stubble, brown and gray, dusts along his jaw and chin. He hasn’t had the energy to shave.

He’s entering that same state of depression that hit him after the fire, and Phillip feels helpless in getting him out of it. 

More rapid knocking at the door. “Barnum, open up!”

It sounds like Lettie. Part of Phineas’s mind registers this, wonders what on Earth she could possibly be doing on his front doorstep, but he doesn’t so much as make a move to get up.

He’s not sure how much time passes, but the knocking doesn’t stop. Finally, Phillip comes down the stairs and asks, “Who is it?” Annoyance laces his voice.

Phineas’s response is only an incoherent grunt. He moves to get off the couch and starts to leave the living room with every intention of locking himself in a guest room and not coming out for the rest of the day.

Phillip opens the door before Phineas can make his escape. He gasps.

“Barnum!” Lettie’s voice is loud, excited.

With a sigh, Phineas turns to face her.

His eyes widen.

Behind Lettie is every single member of his circus troupe. He gapes, eyes scanning every single familiar face. It’s so much like the scene after the fire and his legs tremble, he feels a little woozy. He grabs hold of the wall to support himself.

“Barnum, you won’t believe it!” Lettie again. For the first time, Phineas notices that she’s got Charles propped up on her shoulders. He and Phineas are almost eye-level.

“He’s not talking much,” Phillip mumbles from beside him. Lettie’s eyes flick to Phillip, and she nods.

“Well, I should just come right on out and say it, then, shouldn’t I?” She grins. Her eyes sparkle. “Barnum, the police found a crashed caravan up North, about an hour from here. The police think they were trying to make it to Maine, and then cross the border into Canada.”

Phineas grunts. “Why should I care about some crashed wagon?” he mutters.

“Barnum, it had our stolen things in it! Everything!”

Phineas pauses. He eyes Lettie.

“This is a joke,” he says slowly.

“No, it’s not. The wagon was being pulled by two of our stolen horses, and when the police got there the horses hadn’t wandered away. The officer that came to the circus says that it’s going to be a few days before they can send back the items, but they will!”

Phineas doesn’t know what to say. He opens his mouth.

“And, Barnum,” Lettie’s grin is so bright and big, “They found your hat.”

Phineas gasps.

His father’s hat.

It’s not gone.

He’s going to get it back.

The man’s legs tremble so badly he fears he may collapse. He sits on the edge of a sofa, and Phillip sits with him. His eyes are wide and shining with unshed tears, and he places a hand on Phineas’s shoulder.

“We’re still missing some animals,” Lettie says softly. “The police think some of them might have already been sold for profit. But they’re going to investigate, try to see if they can get these people to ‘fess up their headquarters, see if any of the missing animals are there. A few have already been found on the streets and brought back to the circus within the past few days.”

Phineas’s head is spinning. He feels dizzy.

“They really found everything?” he whispers. His voice is hoarse.

“Everything, Barnum.”

For the first time in days, Phineas’s tears are of pure relief.

xxii. violin

“Did you ever plan on telling me you could play the violin?”

It’s been a couple weeks since the wagon of stolen property was found abandoned. The circus troupe mourned the few animals that were never found, presumed sold or dead, but managed to return, mostly, to a normal life. Phineas had his father’s hat back and, after a few days, the circus reopened stronger than ever.

Now, Phillip gapes at Phineas who stands smirking in the doorway to their bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. The violin in question is nowhere to be seen, but Phillip blushes so terribly that even the tips of his ears turn pink.

Guilty.

“I don’t— how did you—“

“I was in the attic just now,” Phineas nods down the hallway, “trying to see if I had any of Charity’s or my mother’s old gowns for the girls to play dress-up next time they’re over. I stumbled across quite the beautiful instrument, tucked away in a chest in the corner. Can’t be mine, I’ve never seen it before, and I’d have known if Charity were in possession of such a fine instrument.”

Phillip is burning red. Part of him wants to avoid Phineas’s gaze, but a bigger part of him can’t look away.

“I—“ he clears his throat, tried again, “I took a couple violin lessons as a child. Mother insisted, although I only ended up taking four or five until Father decided that violins were ‘for sissies.’ I haven’t... I haven’t played in years. Nearly two decades.”

“And yet, you still carried the instrument around with you?”

Phillip shrugged. “When Father kicked me out he kicked out my possessions, too.”

“Would you play for me?” Phineas grins.

Phillip’s eyes shoot wide. “Phin, I told you—“

“I don’t care if you’re good. I don’t care if you can’t carry a note, though I imagine you can.” His grin only seems to widen. “I put it in ‘your’ room, if you’re interested.”

Phillip’s spare room. Right.

“Do I have much of a choice?” Phillip sighs as he stands up.

Phineas laughs. “Of course you do, darling. Although, I’d be very sad if you didn’t humor me.”

Phillip is already leaving their bedroom. Perhaps... perhaps a part of him *does* want to play again, even as he huffs an exaggerated sigh and rolls his eyes. “Oh, all right. Let’s go.”

Indeed, the violin is waiting for him in his room. Though they are alone in the house, Phineas shuts the door behind them, looking very much like a child waiting in anticipation for a gift.

Phillip takes a deep breath as he sits on the bed, taking hold of the instrument for the first time in years. His heart flutters in his chest as he looks up at Phineas.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters.

Phineas beams.

Phillip pauses, taking a moment to remember notes he’d long ago thought forgotten.

Then he begins to play.

The melody is rough, the violinist out of practice and the violin itself in need of tuning, but Phineas grins when he realizes that he can, in fact, recognize the song

as a classical number from the turn of the century. His eyes are bright and he is positively beaming when Phillip finishes.

Phillip’s little audience of one claps wildly when the song ends. He’s blushing once more, and gently sets the violin aside.

“It was excellent, Phillip!”

Ever so modest, Phillip clears his throat again. “I wasn’t very—“

“No. It was excellent. You were excellent.” Phineas strides forward, takes Phillip’s hands in his, and kisses them. “You have magic fingers, darling.”

Phillip laughs and reaches up to cup Phineas’s face in his ‘magic’ hands. He draws Phineas close and kisses him. “I love you.”

Phineas presses back gently, but when the kiss breaks his eyes are alight with ideas again. “We could incorporate your violin into our show!”

Phillip laughs again, louder than before. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

“You could... you could learn to play with your feet!”

Phillip laughs so hard there are tears in his eyes. He grins, shakes his head. “I am not playing the violin with my feet, Phineas.”

“We could teach Ellie! It’ll be a duet!”

Phineas spends the rest of the night rattling off ideas on what they could do with Phillip’s violin, and Phillip laughs all the while. The ideas are ridiculous, insane, could never happen in a million years, but Phillip is still caught up in that brief time after the robbery, when Phineas wouldn’t speak at all. In Phillip’s opinion, every word that spills from the ringmaster’s mouth is worth its weight in gold.

He wouldn’t have things any other way.

xxiii. wine

It is Phineas’s day off at the circus, Phillip’s turn as ringmaster. Sometimes, Phineas would go with him despite it being his night off, but today he wants to spend a little extra time at home with his daughters.

Phillip is breathless after the show. Normally, the audience isn’t quite as loud for him as they are for Phineas, but tonight they roared. He runs a hand through his still-sweaty hair as the carriage pulls up to the house, and he eyes the yard warily upon discovering that it is totally silent.

It’s late. Perhaps Phineas is putting the girls to bed.

Phillip enters the home as quietly as possible, assuming that Caroline and Helen are in bed asleep. The front foyer is dark, the only source of light coming from a soft glow in the kitchen. Curiously, Phillip follows it.

Phineas is waiting for him with a home-cooked roast and two glasses of red wine. The table is sits at is a alit with candlelight, candles in the center of the table.

“Phineas?” Phillip chokes. 

“Welcome home, darling,” Phineas smiles. His voice is low and rumbles in his chest. 

Slowly, Phillip takes a seat, fatigue from the shows temporarily forgotten. He watches as Phineas opens the bottle, then pours them each a glass of wine.

“Phineas, you know I can’t—“

“It’s all right,” Phineas hushes him. He insists on holding out the glass of wine to Phillip, “This wine won’t hurt you.”

Phillip is hesitant as he takes the glass. Phineas smiles at him as he raises the glass to his lips, takes a slow, hesitant sip. His eyes widen.

Grape juice.

It’s just grape juice.

Phineas laughs at Phillip’s expression. “It was Caroline’s idea,” he explains with delight.

Phillip’s shoulders relax and he smiles as he takes another sip of juice. He’s careful in setting the drink aside as Phineas starts serving up the roast.

“I hope you didn’t starve out your own daughters,” Phillip teases.

“Oh, don’t worry, they had plenty.”

As Phineas offers up Phillip’s dish, Phillip takes it and asks, “What’s all this for, Phineas?”

At this, Phineas pauses and hums thoughtfully.

“I suppose I just... wanted to remind you that I love you. I’ve hardly been acting fairly towards you, what with the robbery and all, and—“

“That wasn’t any fault of your own,” Phillip interrupts.

Phineas smiles sadly at him and reaches across the table to take his hand. “Just... thank you for putting up with me.”

“It’s never ‘putting up with’ you, Phin.”

Phineas’s smile widens a little and he chuckles softly as he asks, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Phillip smiles in turn and squeezes Phineas’s hand. “Not everyone rescues rogue playwrights from the wild.”

“Rogue, huh?” Phineas breaks out into a full-blown grin as he wiggles his eyebrows.

Phillip laughs, nearly knocking over the glass of ‘wine.’ “Don’t get any ideas, Mr. Barnum.”

“Hmm? I can be very convincing.”

“Can you?” Phillip locks eyes with him as Phineas stands. There’s a glint in the older man’s eye, and Phillip’s lip twitches into a smirk

“Prove it.”

xxiv. xylography 

While working on the railroad, Phineas found he had quite the knack for wood crafting. He would sneak small pieces of wood onto the train and, when he wasn’t writing letters to Charity in his free time, he would chip and whittle away at his collection of wood.

At first, they were nothing but indistinguishable stumps. But, as time went on, his designs grew more and more complex. Surprisingly, these little wooden statues became quite popular with the other railroad workers.

Now, he presents Phillip with an elephant. Phillip’s eyes widen like a little kid’s on Christmas and sparkle with delight.

“Where’d you get this?” He holds the little elephant in his palm as if it might shatter.

“I made it.”

“You... what?” Phillip’s head snaps up as he looks at Phineas.

Phineas smiles. “Just call it one of my many secret talents.”

“When did you— How did—“

“It was a hobby I took up while working on the railroad. The girls love it, I make little wooden trinkets for them every year.”

“And you never told me?” 

Phineas smiles sweetly. “You never asked.”

Phillip huffs. He traces one of the elephant’s ears with his finger. 

“Could you teach me?”

Phineas’s eyes widen in surprise. “You’d really want to learn?”

Phillip nods eagerly.

“Well... well, sure.”

*

When Phillip presents Phineas with his first project, Phineas pales. It is stiff, rigid, seems to take on a particular shape of—

“It’s a dog!” Phillip explains delightedly.

“A... dog?” Phineas echoes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

xxv. youth

Watching Phineas perform, the center of attention, one would never guess he was a man in his mid-forties.

The way he sings his heart out, the way he dances as if he’ll never tire, a stranger would have a hard time believing he wasn’t at least ten years younger. Sometimes, Phillip has a hard time believing their seventeen-year age difference. Sometimes, Phineas seems almost younger than Phillip himself.

His power, his energy, is everywhere. The circus. Their home. Their bed. Sometimes, Phillip has to catch a breath to even keep up with him.

So, it is moments like these, when Phillip can pause to catch a breath, where he can truly pause and admire the man lying beside him. The rare nights when Phineas is asleep before him.

He studies everything about Phineas’s sleeping form. The way his face relaxes, his mouth and eyes gently lined with age that proves that the man is, in fact, human. The way his chest rises and falls with each sleeping breath. The way his sleeping sighs and groans are louder than a silent breath, but not quite a rumbling snore. The way his hair, rumpled by the pillow everywhere else, curls perfect and untouched by his ear.

Slowly, gently, Phillip reaches out and twirls a curl around his finger. Despite his effort to be as careful as possible, Phineas’s eyes flutter open. He catches sight of Phillip, and he smiles.

“Hi,” Phillip whispers. His cheeks are tinged slightly pink, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S’alright,” Phineas mumbles. He catches the hand that isn’t in his hair, and brings it to his lips. “Can’t sleep?”

“I was about to, but I just...” Phillip blushes.

“Hmm?”

“I was just... you’re beautiful, Phineas.”

Phineas smiles and gently pulls Phillip down to lie on him. Phillip closes his eyes as he nestles comfortably on Phineas’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of Phineas’s heartbeat.

Strong arms wrap around Phillip, hold him close. And it is this way, with Phillip securely held close to Phineas’s chest, that he finally drifts off to sleep.

xxvi. zest

Phineas lives life to the fullest. Phillip never knew there was such a way to live life... until he met Phineas that day in the bar.

Phineas is a man that rarely gets upset. When he does... the fire, the thieves... his coping mechanism is to, essentially, shut down. In its own way, it is just as unhealthy as Phillip and his drinking.

Phillip is working on that. Has been, for months now. 

And so Phineas has learned — is learning — how to control his own grief, too.

Phillip helps Phineas cope in a way that nobody else — not his circus troupe, not even his own daughters — can. They are a team, Phineas and Phillip, in and out of work. If one of them falters, it shows... but the other, eventually, helps pick them back up again.

Phineas has been told that he has a certain zest for life. It’s true, he can’t deny that.

But that zest has only gone up since meeting Phillip.

Now, Phineas is bright-eyed and pink-faced. It is the intermission between their afternoon and evening shows and he pulls Phillip backstage.

“You were brilliant, darling,” Phillip immediately reaches up, tries to kiss Phineas’s mouth. Phineas is distracted. He lets Phillip kiss him, but Phillip can tell that Phineas isn’t all there.

“What’s wrong?” he breathes out.

“Nothing, nothing, I promise,” Phineas is quick to assure him. “But... I need to ask you something, Phillip, and it’s important.”

“You can ask me anything, Phin.”

It’s when Phineas pulls out a little box and slides down to his knee, done up in his ringmaster coat and all, that Phillip’s hand flies up to his mouth. His eyes are bright and shining with tears.

“I know we can’t do things the conventional way,” Phineas breathes out, “But I love you more than anything, Phillip. Since that goddamned fire... you have given me a whole new reason to put the all in what I do. I know we can’t have a proper ceremony, but I went ahead and got a ring, so...”

He flips open the box. The silver ring sparkles in the light.

“Will you be my forever, Phillip Carlyle?”

Despite the tears that roll down his face, despite the overwhelming waves of love that slam into him like a freight train, Phillip laughs. “Was that corny line the best you could do?”

Phineas grins. “I didn’t exactly plan a speech.”

“Yes,” Phillip whispers, “Yes, Phineas, of course I will.”

Phineas jumps up and pulls Phillip into his chest so quickly that he nearly drops the ring. Their kiss is messy, both of them crying now, and they cling to each other as if they can never let go.

Inside the band of the ring is an inscription in tiny, perfect letters.

_Ethereal_. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it through this goddamn thing, I’m proud of you! Comment if you wanna :’)


End file.
